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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966664">forever's come and gone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyduckgreygoose/pseuds/greyduckgreygoose'>greyduckgreygoose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:43:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyduckgreygoose/pseuds/greyduckgreygoose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ghosts haunt places,” Lambert said heatedly, “not <i>people</i>.”</p>
<p>“Evidently,” Aiden replied dryly. They were now two townships away from the site where Aiden was murdered, and where Lambert had picked up this … this impossibility. </p>
<p>This infuriatingly Aiden-shaped impossibility that sat across the tavern table from Lambert, looking so bitterly similar to the very last time Lambert had seen him, on a dirt trail outside of a no-account town, the wind in his hair and the sun in his smile.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>forever's come and gone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Talking to ghosts was an exercise in self-flagellation. </p>
<p>It was tempting, of course. Witchers (of the Geralt variety) were always <em>tempted</em> to take the reasonable way out. To slowly lay down the map of reason which would make a restless spirit decide to depart of their own volition, rather than screeching bloody murder upon the end of a silver sword.</p>
<p>But that was just the problem.</p>
<p>The reason of a departed soul was circular, beginning and ending at the moment which severed their life from their body. It was there in the very definition of <em>a haunting:</em> a persistent presence, heavy with history and ever doomed to repeat itself. </p>
<p>Lambert knew all this. Had never been the type to play the bleeding savior at the expense of his own time and effort. Silver coated in spectre oil and no talking meant that he could slide behind the cold comfort of a tankard of ale, or between the warm comfort of a whore’s thighs all that much faster. </p>
<p>Then why.</p>
<p>Why was he talking to Aiden’s ghost?</p>
<p>–</p>
<p>“Ghosts haunt places,” Lambert said heatedly, “not <em>people</em>.”</p>
<p>“Evidently,” Aiden replied dryly. They were now two townships away from the site where Aiden was murdered, and where Lambert had picked up this … this impossibility. </p>
<p>This infuriatingly Aiden-shaped impossibility that sat across the tavern table from Lambert, looking so bitterly similar to the very last time Lambert had seen him, on a dirt trail outside of a no-account town, the wind in his hair and the sun in his smile.</p>
<p>It was just that<em> this </em>Aiden had a gaping hole in his sternum. And<em> this</em> Aiden was a ghost that no one but Lambert could see.</p>
<p>“I killed them,” Lambert rasped, uncaring of the strange stares he was receiving, “every single of those sons of whores who had a hand in it.” He’d tapped Geralt’s help to do so too, which galled him. Now he owed the sanctimonious moralizer at least two uninterrupted lectures about maintaining neutrality in the face of injustice or some shit like that. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Aiden said mildly. “They probably didn’t deserve it, but I appreciate the gesture.” </p>
<p>Lambert scowled. That was a rookie move too, he knew, trying to get the spirit to move on by convincing it that its business on earth was finished. In his defense, he had killed Aiden’s murderers for his own self-satisfaction, well before Aiden himself had decided to tag along. </p>
<p>“Fine,” Lambert said, thumping his empty tankard on the table. “You’re haunting me. Fucking <em>why</em>?”</p>
<p>Another stupid, pointless question. He was full of them tonight. </p>
<p>Aiden didn’t seem to know the answer to this himself, giving himself away by the way his eyes drifted from Lambert’s face, to the left. It was his fucking tell at gwent, too, and why Lambert regularly took him for everything he had.</p>
<p>But then, instead of explaining himself, Aiden just vanished.</p>
<p>Because, apparently, he could do that now.</p>
<p>–</p>
<p>Three days later, and Lambert was still no closer to figuring out the mystery of Aiden’s ghost. The mystery, of course, being why he just didn’t stab the thing into the afterlife yet. </p>
<p>Strangely enough, Aiden didn’t seem particularly curious about the matter himself, nor did he seem eager to pass on. </p>
<p>He just acted … as he always did. Making dry comments. Being a nuisance. <em>Poking</em> at Lambert. Doing nothing productive as far as Lambert could see, and that, at least, was reminiscent of Aiden as he had been in life. </p>
<p>Even worse now because Lambert couldn’t smack him upside the head or kick him in the shin when he got too annoying. Lambert really hadn’t realized just how many of their disagreements had been solved by brief, satisfying violence escalating to wrestling by the side of the road and, occasionally, sucking cock (giving new meaning to the term <em>coming to blows</em>). </p>
<p>Like earlier that day, when Aiden had popped into existence when Lambert was traveling through endless, featureless fields of half-grown wheat and baited Lambert into a long, passionate argument about the physical makeup of gargoyles and their susceptibility to <em>Aard</em>. It was remarkable the number of opinions Lambert discovered that he had on the topic, given that neither he nor Aiden had ever encountered the creature in person.</p>
<p>But Aiden was good at that sort of thing. Getting Lambert on a tear and laughing as he tired himself out with it. Aiden had all the even-temperedness of Eskel, and chose to use it for evil.</p>
<p>(After meeting Eskel for the first time, Aiden had done a remarkable, devastating impression of the older Witcher’s insincere agreeability which had made Lambert howl with laughter at the time and thereafter unable to look Eskel in the face without at least a little snickering.)</p>
<p>“Now look at you,” Aiden drawled as the sun began to set on the horizon, “you’re lost.” </p>
<p>“And who’s fault is that?” Lambert muttered as he began looking for somewhere to set camp. But the day had been a little less tedious with Aiden along. </p>
<p>Even if there had been no wrestling - or cock-sucking. </p>
<p>–</p>
<p>It had to be said that Aiden never really meant harm. He simply had a streak of disloyalty a mile wide. He had even said so from the start,</p>
<p>“I like you, so I’ll tell you, kid - don’t think to count on me for anything.”</p>
<p>Lambert had kept that in mind as well as he could, even as he enjoyed Aiden’s irreverence, his biting wit and delightfully skewed view of the world that somehow perfectly aligned with Lambert’s own. It was so rare that Lambert could find someone he could <em>stand -</em> long enough to ride beside for one job, then more, to climb into his bed under the hood of night and ride them both to snarling, shaking pieces. </p>
<p>To keep him, Lambert knew, he just had to never put Aiden in a situation where he was forced to choose between Lambert’s interests and his own.</p>
<p>But that situation came all the same, borne on the back of a noble that Lambert had been a little<em> too</em> flippant with, now bent on getting Lambert strung up for some trumped-up crimes. </p>
<p>“We don’t want any trouble from you,” the guard said warily. There were five of them, warily circling the Witchers’ unsheathed blades. “We’re here for the Wolf Witcher only.” </p>
<p>Aiden slid his eyes to Lambert, who kept his expression stiff. Dying was preferable to begging for Aiden’s intervention. Begging and being left by the wayside. </p>
<p>“How much?” Aiden asked loudly.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“How much is his bounty?” Aiden repeated slower, as if the guardsmen were imbeciles. </p>
<p>“I … there is no bounty,” the guard scowled. “Step aside, and we’ll let you leave with your life.” </p>
<p>“Well that sounds like extortion,” Aiden said, smoothly flipping his blades in his hands as he grinned in anticipation of battle. “Which is <em>very</em> disrespectful.”</p>
<p>Later, Lambert wondered aloud how many sovereigns Aiden would have taken to leave his oldest friend to die. </p>
<p>“Fifty to walk away,” Aiden replied, “A hundred to help them.” </p>
<p>“That’s … remarkably cheap,” Lambert said.</p>
<p>“And still,” Aiden replied breezily, “it doesn’t seem many are willing to pay it.” </p>
<p>–</p>
<p>“You remember when you were about to kill me?” Lambert asked, setting out the wood for their fire -<em> his</em> fire tonight. </p>
<p>“Which time?” Aiden asked, his chin in his hands. He was lounging across the pile of wood, in a remarkable impression of sitting, though he floated noticeably off the ground. </p>
<p>“Fair,” Lambert said, pausing in his work to sit back on his haunches. “When you were about to sell me out to badge-toting thugs in Montecarvo for a hundred crowns.” He watched Aiden closely, and did not miss the drift of his gaze.</p>
<p>“You still holding a grudge for that?” Aiden asked, smiling thinly. </p>
<p>Lambert sighed shortly, rubbing at his jaw. </p>
<p>That was the problem with ghosts. They could never be the truth in whole. They were a visage, an impression, a repeating loop which circled tighter and tighter  towards the moment of their trauma.</p>
<p>Soon, Lambert knew, soon Aiden would also forget all about their first meeting, their first hurried, exhilarating fuck, their years of camaraderie and - on Lambert’s part - fitful, furtive love. </p>
<p>It would be better, Lambert knew, to just be done with it. </p>
<p>“Why haven’t you already sheathed your sword through me?” Aiden asked suddenly. </p>
<p>“You want me to?” Lambert asked sharply.</p>
<p>Aiden just smiled, shrugging like Lambert had just asked whether he wanted veal or dried fish for dinner.</p>
<p>He was, Lambert realized dismally, growing used to Aiden with that gaping hole in his sternum, the paleness of his face, splattered with gore. Aiden certainly didn’t seem to mind it. </p>
<p>“You’re going to become a wraith,” Lambert said darkly, trying to convince himself. “That’s the last thing you should want to wait for.” </p>
<p>Aiden shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe you shouldn’t presume to know what I want. Maybe you don’t know much about this ghost business after all.” </p>
<p>Lambert scowled as Aiden vanished on the wind, to reappear to bother him in perhaps hours, perhaps days, to play-act the affections they shared and string Lambert along with his tortuous, fleeting presence for as long as Lambert could stand it.</p>
<p>Lambert stood suddenly, wanting to hit something, wanting to break something, wanting to vent his utter fury on a body that could handle it, who would give the same back until Lambert was limp and hurting and <em>satisfied</em>.</p>
<p>But there was nothing around him. Not even the ether of Aiden’s departure. Lambert stood alone in the growing dark, the growing cold, watching the steam from his breath curling into the sky as he clenched his fists helplessly at his sides. </p>
<p>And <em>that</em> was why Lambert never talked with ghosts. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>my <a href="https://greyduckgreygoose.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic">tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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